


All Good Things

by monicawoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was an ocean here once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Good Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indiachick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiachick/gifts).



> written for indiachick for the 2014 spnspringfling

_There was an ocean here once,_ Sam thought as he looked out over the basin. The sand sloped gently downwards, warm against his bare toes.

He walked for a while, eyes on the empty horizon. Bits of shells, rock, glass and bone glistened under Sam's feet. Some of the shards were sharp, but his feet were thickly calloused and didn't bother him in the least. The sun was about to dip down out of sight, tinting the sky bruised purple, when he saw a large cage ahead—white and curved, the bones of a great beast. Sam thought of dragons, what he'd thought they were, and what they'd been reduced to when he'd killed one so long ago. He thought of broken blades and blades that break and he thought of his brother.

The ribcage was easily twice as tall as Sam and on a whim, he stepped between two of the long curved bones, moved to where the heart must have been and sat down. His back fit comfortably against the curve of the whale's bones and Sam closed his eyes, listening to the wind whistle across the sand.

The silence was the worst part.

He used to crave quiet, used to seek it out. Peace was so rare for him, not just in his life _before_ , but in his own head. There'd been so many others in his mind, invited and not, so many overloud memories that he couldn't push down far enough, no matter how hard he tried. The screams of those he hadn't saved, and the accusations of those he had, and Dean—Dean, whose voice never ever left him.

Dean's voice and his memory had been Sam's only companions for the last few decades, not counting the ants, the roaches and the blind snakes. _Western Blind Snakes_ , Sam corrected himself. The Western Blind Snakes liked to eat ants, and they navigated the seabed just underneath the surface, only coming up at night. They left curvy ripples behind in their travels, and Sam always took care not to step on their patterns. They were a surprise, the snakes. He'd figured the insects would find a way, they always did, but most reptiles had died out along with the rest of the world when the asteroids hit.

Sam had thought it was the end when he'd seen them fall from the sky. He'd cried in relief, centuries upon centuries of exhaustion finally drawing to a close and he'd run towards the closest one, thinking _yes, yes, please_. But even though he'd stood right underneath the fiery rain, let it strike him over and over, he came away with nothing more than a headache and a few singed hairs.

Absently, he rubbed his thumb over the scar on his chest—the last scar he'd ever gotten. He could still feel the ridges of the splintered jawbone deep underneath his skin, all that was left of the First Blade. It was the only thing keeping him alive, and all he wanted was to tear it out. But he couldn't. Not because of fear or hesitancy or lack of strength, but because his skin had grown too thick to break, a side effect of the destruction of the Curse…of the Mark.

He pushed his thumb against the curve of a premolar and lifted his head to look up at the night sky. The constellations hadn't changed much, but they had changed. Just enough for him to feel like a stranger, even though he'd known this Earth longer than most anything else that still moved on its surface.

She came without fanfare, as she always did. Nothing more than a slight shift in the air and a soft kiss on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and took a breath before opening them, not quite ready to see what mask she'd decided to wear.

But she wasn't Jess tonight, or Ruby, or Amelia or the dark-haired woman whose face she'd worn for so long. She was herself—a wispy thing made of sorrow, hope and longing. _Not so different from a demon,_ Sam thought, as he ran his fingers through the spider-silk strands of Tessa's hair. _Not so different from a human soul, just not as blinding._ But when he touched her, when _they_ touched, she became flesh and blood. She was the color of the moon above and her eyes were hollow, empty sockets, but she warmed under Sam's hands, drinking in his heat until she felt almost alive.

Tessa had started coming to him a few years ago; he wasn’t sure how many. He'd nearly gone mad the day he'd lost count. After a long but exhilarating trek up and down the whole length of what had once been the Colorado River, he'd fallen asleep for what felt like a day, but it had been longer. So much longer. And when he woke, the scratches he'd made in the rock wall of the canyon had all been worn clean. After that, he didn't bother staying in one place for very long anymore. He walked. From one coast to the other, from one continent to another, across the empty Pacific Basin that stretched down for miles and miles. He'd reached deep into the cracks in the earth, felt it pour magma over his fingers and screamed at it for leaving him whole.

"He says hi," Tessa whispered in Sam's ear.

"Don't lie to me," Sam said as he brought his mouth to her neck and kissed her, working his way up to her ear.

She let out a gasp as Sam bit down on the thin skin just under her jaw. "I'm not."

A laugh rumbled in Sam's chest. "He doesn't say hi to anyone."

Tessa ran her fingers down Sam's back, razor-sharp nails leaving trails of reddened skin behind. She couldn't kill him, couldn't really hurt him, but she could make him feel a little more human.

For hours, the sound of them rutting against each other was the only break in the endless stillness of the desert, until Tessa's pleasure called up a whirlwind around them. They cried out and fell silent, laid together naked and unbothered by the coldness of the night.

Small curves rippled just beyond Sam's feet as a small blind snake shimmied past them. They watched it move farther away from them, watched as the wind smoothed out its pattern. Like it had never been there.

"How much longer?" Sam asked, as the orange sun started to rise again.

"I don't know."

"Make something up."

"What good would that do?"

"It'd give me hope." Sam brought his hand around Tessa's waist and turned her towards him. Her skin looked gray in the light of dawn.

She kissed him once more. Her fingertip traced a circle around the scar on his chest. "Do you know how many humans would have begged for this?"

"Nobody wants this." Sam cocked his head to the side. "Wanted."

"Do you have any idea how many of them spit and cursed at me when I came for them?"

"They didn't know you like I do."

"Nobody did." She smiled sadly. "Not even your brother."

Sam swallowed, as glimpses of fragmented memories unspooled in the back of his mind. Dean kissing Tessa, Dean leaving with her, Dean and the First Blade and the angry red mark on his arm. The scar twinged as Sam remembered the blade piercing his chest, remembered Dean's face shifting from unbridled bloodlust to horror.

 _I'm sorry,_ he'd said.

Tessa's voice pulled Sam back. "It's better this way. You really think Dean would be better off up there?" She tilted her head down, empty sockets pointed at the sand. "Or down there?"

Sam crossed his arms, but said nothing.

"You two were always going to do this to each other. It had to stop. So we stopped it."

"We?" Sam asked.

She bowed her head, and her hair fanned out behind her, weightless. "You know who I serve."

"Did you ask him?"

She raised her head again and those empty pits looked at Sam. "I always ask."

"And what did he say?"

"That this isn't a punishment. That this was not meant to happen to any of your kind, and that alone makes it remarkable." She sat back on her heels. "You'll be here after everyone else on Earth is gone."

"They're already all gone," Sam said incredulously. "I've been alone for—I don't even know how long." He climbed to his feet and his voice grew louder. "There's nobody else here."

"That's where you're wrong," she said. "There are billions."

Sam was dumbfounded. He watched Tessa's spindly finger point out towards a soft ripple in the sand.

"The snakes? No. You can't mean that.

"Snakes, insects, every blade of grass. Every one of them a life."

"No!" Sam shouted. "No. I can't wait for all of them, I—" An awful panic filled Sam's heart and he stood, desperate to get away.

Tessa stood, nearly as tall as him, and put her hands on the side of his face. "You don't have to wait." Her voice quieted. "We just needed a witness."

"To what?" Sam asked.

Tessa pointed up at the sky and it stuttered. The constellations changed before Sam's eyes, time passing in jagged flickers, and when he looked down at his legs, they were buried deep in the sand and the bones of the whale were worn down to stubs.

_What's happening?_

"Watch," she whispered as night came again, a fine sliver of moon darting up into the sky. The Sun rose and it was a giant thing, red and fat. Tessa's fingers slid between Sam's. "I didn't want you to be alone."

"Thank you," Sam said, eyes fixed on the Sun, which grew larger and closer until it was everywhere. The sand turned to glass, Tessa turned to ash, and the Sun swallowed the horizon. Sam looked down at himself, at his unburnt skin and then back up into the light. _Not so different from Heaven ,_ he thought. _Not so different from Hell, just not as blinding._

The heat and light lapped at Sam's feet and he fell off the edge of the world as the world became the Sun and the Sun became the World. And in the center of the World was a thin man who greeted Sam like an old friend.


End file.
